Snapshots of Lake Windermere

The green hills that rise above

Lake Windermere

(the largest lake in England)

are still the dominion of Beatrix Potter --

the woman who helped immortalize

a particular kind of English cosiness:

of vegetable patches and garden gates

rocking chairs by the fire

and cambric tea.

Here is the garden path

that Tom Kitten tripped down.

He, and all of the other pastel products

of Beatrix Potter's imagination,

are part of Hill Top.

The popularity of those tiny tales

gave Beatrix Potter the income

to buy a house of her own.

At the age of 41,

she was finally able to break free

of the Victorian vise

of her parents' care.

Photography isn't allowed in the dim,

interior still-life of Hilltop.

This group of Japanese tourists

wielded umbrellas, not cameras.

Hilltop is like a grown-up doll's house,

furnished for one person's taste and comfort.

It has a treasure room

and dolls who were born two centuries ago.

Completely unchanged,

it feels like a place preserved

by a sleeping beauty spell. . .

if only someone would just light the fire

and put the kettle on.

The books mirror the house:

Here is the spinning wheel,

the wooden dresser full of china,

the open fire,

the flagstone floor,

the gleaming grandfather clock

and the thick oriental carpet.

Eventually, Beatrix Potter

owned 4000 acres of land

in the Lake District.

Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddleduck

were supplanted

by her interest in real animals,

particularly Herdwick sheep.

She left the land and the herds of sheep

to the National Trust.

Perhaps this solitary ewe,

grazing near the house,

is an heir

of one of her prize-winners.

After her father died,

Beatrix Potter bought her mother a house

in nearby Bowness.

(Today, Bowness is the home

of The World of Beatrix Potter

and a dozen sweet shops.)

Mother and daughter were separated

by Lake Windermere and the hills

that rose above it;

close, but not too close.

You can drive around the lake,

but it's faster to take the ferry

or perhaps one of these little red boats

across the water.

The fog followed us

as we walked around the lake.

Not a good day for sailing . . .

the boats looked like toys

abandoned in a bathtub.

If the day is too damp

for walking,

you can just admire the view

from the Old England Hotel.

The tea is served in silver pots,

with a salver of shortbread.